


investment proposition

by orphan_account



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Condoms, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Safewords, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: At the gala, Clark propositions Bruce to join he and Lex for a threesome. (AU: Established Relationship Clex.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> 10000% trash id-fic written for Lynn, unbetad. 
> 
> This is part of an established AU universe where Clark and Lex started a relationship before the events of Batman v Superman, so, you know, it needs a lot of suspension of disbelief. There is zero explanation and zero plot, abandon expectations all ye who enter here.
> 
> Standard disclaimer: Please don't repost my fic elsewhere! Transformative works are acceptable and you don't need to tell me or ask permission.

The hallway is plush, well-lit, not at all appropriate for a rendezvous. Clark Kent leans in close, not quite touching the other man, his magnetism suddenly palpable despite his ordinary journalist clothing. "I've noticed your eyes on me all evening," he says quietly, but with definite intent. There's something in his eyes that says he might be about to break into a smile.

Bruce Wayne's own mouth lifts at the corner, and he leans in like he was invited, but Clark stops him with a firm hand to his chest. "My boyfriend," he starts, and those two words alone are enough to make Bruce ease his weight back again. "Is a little obsessed with you. He has this attraction to guys with big ... brains." At this he does actually smile.

But before Bruce can get nervous that he's about to be beaten up in a back corridor of Luthor's mansion, Clark touches him, one hand to the rough stubble of his jaw. "So I have a proposition for you. I thought maybe you'd like to help me, uh, surprise him."

_Mr Wayne_ , comes Alfred suddenly over the earpiece before Bruce can respond to this surprising request. _Need I remind you—_

"And you can tell the guy in your ear," Clark says, expression unchanging, thumb still stroking Bruce's cheek, "That you deserve a night off. Lexcorp's data will still be there in the morning." Probably Lex wouldn't appreciate him giving the game away, but Clark is a cards-on-the-table kind of guy. Bruce seems surprised, eyes widening minutely and pulse picking up, but he also seems to agree.

"Sorry Alfred," he says, reaching up to turn the minute earpiece off before Alfred can recover from his spluttered protests well enough to argue. Bruce meets Clark's eyes like nothing had just happened. "Okay," he says, leaning in again, and this time Clark lets the kiss happen. It's heated, his mouth opening almost immediately for the unfamiliar tongue, nostrils flaring as he sucks in a sharp gasp at the aggression of it.

Bruce follows him along the corridor once the kiss breaks, as Clark leads them into a large bedroom, all dark greys and reds, the interior dominated by the massive bed in the center. It's sparsely decorated, and clearly unoccupied, a guest bedroom provided for partygoers who have a little too much to drink. Clark isnt quite ready to invite Bruce into his and Lex's shared living space. He stands in the center, looking out of place amidst all the luxury.

"Before we do anything," Clark says, blue eyes dark and fixed on Bruce, "There's a couple things you should know." He wets his lower lip, the only outward sign of his nerves. "Lex and I have kind of an, um. Unusual relationship, I guess."

"You're swingers," Bruce points out, expecting a list of rules, but Clark shakes his head.

"No, no, we've never actually. Done this before." This, from his gesture, apparently means Bruce. "No, see, Lex is kind of. He likes to keep control of a situation. And what I like, is. Pain. Mostly." He seems kind of embarrassed to be admitting it aloud, and it becomes apparent that Clark Kent is a blusher as his high cheekbones pinken up. "Humiliation."

"BDSM," says Bruce, who is at the very least familiar with the idea. Clark nods, lips pressed together for a moment. "Not that unique," Bruce adds, trying to set the other man a little more at ease, those broad shoulders visibly tense. 

Clark breathes out something that isn't quite a laugh, cants his eyes away. "Yeah. We have a really good relationship, we're equals outside the bedroom — and we have rules, and boundaries, and safewords. It's not... I just thought I should warn you."

"Understood," Bruce says, clearly a little amused, and not at all out the door. Only then does Clark relax, come forward to take his suit jacket off and hang it by the door. Bruce watches him with the expensive material in his hand and raises an eyebrow. "So does this mean I'm going to be tying you up?"

Clark looks back over his shoulder, startled, and then turns. Rakes a hand through his dark curls, before shaking his head. "You don't have to play along at all," he says. "Whatever you want is okay. Lex might order you about a bit, but he does that to everyone. You won't be in trouble if you ignore it."

Bruce is undeterred. "And if I order you around?"

It's a question fraught with tension, and Clark feels a frission go down his spine. "Sure," he says. That's enough of an admission that he immediately makes himself busy, hanging up his own coat and pulling out a slender smartphone, texting Lex one-handed as he crosses the room. The sideboard has a selection of top shelf liquors, as well as a pitcher of ice water, and Clark helps himself to the latter. Downs it in a couple of gulps, puts the phone down alongside the condensation-limned glass, and starts to unbutton his shirt.

"Let me help you with that," says Bruce, coming forward; Clark has quick fingers and is practiced with undressing in a hurry, so he's already powered through half the buttons by the time Bruce takes his hands and stills them. Runs his own over the broad chest that's been revealed, enjoying the sensation of his mat of chest hair under his palms. Then Bruce finishes undoing the buttons, fingers drifting down the muscular abdomen with well-concealed surprise. Who knew the mild-mannered Daily Planet reporter was keeping _this_ under his clothes? Bruce had thought he just had exceptionally good hearing, but he's starting to realize that might not be all there is to it.

The shirt is soft and expensive, tailor-made for Clark by a certain someone who cares a lot more about what materials Clark wears than Clark himself does, even at such a classy event. They both ignore it when it crumples to the floor, lost in staring each other down. The intense eye contact gives way abruptly to more kissing, and then both men are scrabbling at each other's clothes, stumbling towards the bed.

"This okay?" Bruce gets out between kisses as he pushes them both down onto the mattress. 

Clark spreads his legs, fingers digging into the muscle at the back of Bruce's neck. "It's," he tries, and then moans a little as heated mouth latches onto the strong line of his neck. "It's fine. It's great. But I have to, I have to..." Bruce pulls back, looking down at him, giving him the space to finish. Clark is huge-pupiled and red-mouthed, angelic curls all tousled, bare limbs trying to wrap themselves around the other man. "I have to prepare myself," he says, flushing all over again, which is so endearing that they have to return to kissing just about immediately. Clark laughs into it, pushes at his chest. "I mean it. Don't get me in trouble. There's lube in the side table."

"Someone doesn't mess around," says Bruce, but he gets the lube, uncaps it as he reaches down to feel out between Clark's legs — but Clark shakes his head, scoots backwards up the bed and holds his hand out. 

"I have to do it myself," he admits, a touch coy. "But you can watch." So Bruce sits back and watches Clark finger himself — brutally, faster and rougher than Bruce would have been, clearly determined to get himself as slick and open as possible in as little time as possible. He twists four fingers into himself before finally pulling them out, panting, his cock an aching untouched line. Bruce can feel his own starting to press against the trousers he hadn't quite gotten around to removing.

The quiet beep of the key card and the sound of the door handle is all the warning they get. "Well now," says Lex, letting the door close behind him as he enters, fresh from socializing, eyes bright with some madness between avarice and anxiety. "Isn't this a pretty picture?"

He practically dances across the room, offers his hand to Bruce, who, shirtless and kiss-rumpled, shakes it with no little amusement. "Lex Luthor. I was quite put out I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier." He glances across at Clark, lifts an eyebrow, waves an imperious hand in his direction. "Hands and knees. Bruce!" His attention slides back, focused as a magpie. "Can I call you Bruce? Let me get you a drink."

He steers Bruce back over to the sideboard, picks out a whiskey and pours them both a couple of fingers, stands elbow to elbow with him like they're talking business and Clark isn't presenting himself on a bed in the middle of the room. "Clark filled you in on all the pertinent details?" he checks, not bothering to lower his voice when Clark would be able to hear it anyway. "We use traffic light safewords. Green for go, red for stop. I like to keep things simple." This is a lie. "Other than that, you're basically free to do whatever you want to him. But if you don't mind terribly, I think I'd quite like to watch you fuck him."

He gestures to Clark, who is after all looking imminently fuckable. Bruce follows the line of his hand, and knocks back his whiskey. "Attaboy," encourages Lex when Bruce strides towards the bed, following alongside as though physically drawn to, drink still clutched and untouched. He watches with interest as Bruce undoes his dress pants at the foot of the bed, strips down to nudity. "Mm, mm, mm. Why, that might just be the thickest cock I have ever seen. May I?" He reaches for it, but not really to stroke, just weighing it possessively in his hand. His comment is only a mild exaggeration, but he seems to be enjoying the way it made Clark's spine visibly straighten. A condom comes from seemingly nowhere, Lex rolling it down the length, and Bruce gives a soft grunt and reaches for him, but Lex lets go, steps backwards quickly, laughing. "No, no, while I very much intend to have my turn, Kansas here has been a very good boy this evening. He does so enjoy having something inside him, and I, mm, do my best to accomodate."

When the news had broken yesterday about Luthor's relationship, when he'd seen them together this evening welcoming guests to the gala, he'd made certain assumptions about their relationship. However those have been steadily dismantled ever since Clark backed him up into a quiet hallway, and he feels unsteady at having Lex's mania up close and personal, even if Clark seems to be taking the brunt of it. The man isn't even undressed, still standing and sipping whiskey as he watches expectantly from the side of the bed.

Bruce kneels up, runs a hand down Clark's flank and feels him shiver. "You all right?" he asks, low; this close Lex must still hear, but he doesn't react, even when Clark glances across at him before answering.

"Green," he says, apparently deciding to interpret Bruce's checking in the same way he would Lex's, and he tips his hips up. "Don't worry. I want this."

That Clark feels he has to be the one doing the reassuring is affronting enough that Bruce stops with the gentle caresses and instead presses the blunt head of his cock between Clark's cheeks, letting it rub down to his enterance.

"Feel that?" Lex says, delighted, though it's not immediately apparent which of them he's addressing. "It's going to be a tight fit." Clark groans, and presses back for it, and Bruce feels the crown breach the ring of muscle there and slide inside, enveloped by tight, hot skin. His own hips snap forward — he's never been particularly inclined to gentleness in the bedroom so long as his partner is willing — and Clark stretches around him.

The man himself seems overwhelmed by the penetration, and when Bruce finally works himself full he's clenched and trembling all over, a sweat broken out on his skin. Lex notices and comes closer, climbing onto the bed with them and sitting up alongside Clark, stroking his hair. "Mm. You've never taken so much, have you Kansas? Is that slutty ass finally all full up?" He shoots Bruce a bright smile. "Why don't you go ahead and thank Mr Wayne for fucking you."

Clark doesn't say anything for a moment, and Bruce wishes he could see his expression. "Thank you," he manages finally, a little strangled, and in return Bruce takes a hold of his ass and starts to fuck him.

A startled noise bursts out of Clark, and he immediately drops, lifting his ass up higher and burying his head in Lex's lap. Lex keeps petting him, making soothing noises, and between Bruce's grip and Clark's flexing abdomen and Lex's grip on his shoulder, they hold firm against the sharp, deep thrusts as Bruce fills him over and over again. Clark is noisy with it: high, short groans every time he's penetrated, increasing in tempo as Bruce speeds up his thrusts. He looks down and watches; Clark's ass could have been sculpted by the Greeks, his strong thighs taut and his hole a pink flare that seems to massage right down the length of Bruce's cock. He slides his hands around to cup both globes and pull his cheeks apart just to get a better look, and then spits down between them, his saliva slicking the rim all over again and making Clark clench his hands into the sheets. Lex makes an approving sound — and then a different one. Holds a finger up to Bruce to indicate he should pause, though his gaze is downwards, on Clark. Bruce's hips still uncertainly, still buried deep, suddenly aware again of Clark flexing around him as though he wants to milk the come from Bruce's cock.

"You are naughty," Lex scolds, pulling Clark out of his lap by the hair. There's a wet spot over his erection, and Clark's face is all smeary with drool. He's been trying to suck Lex's cock through the fabric, but the moment he actually found any part of the bulge, Lex had noticed and dragged him away. "If you want it. You can ask for it."

Clark looks at him with those deep blue eyes that Lex can get so lost in, with an expression like he's forgotten how words work. Lex kisses him on the forehead with fond exasperation and lets him go, slips off the bed to strip out of his clothes. The wet material might not bother another man, but to him it is an unacceptably unpleasant sensation. And now that he's not hypnotized by the motion of Clark and Bruce's bodies colliding, it becomes apparent that his own body is demanding attention.

Bruce has started moving again, and Lex, now shamelessly naked, takes a moment to circle the bed with a predator's deliberation, admiring the view.

"Mm, you know originally I had planned to see if you'd be, ah, interested in having me slip alongside you," he remarks, coming close and looking down at the same sight that had entranced Bruce earlier. Clark whimpers. "But I don't think there's room."

He touches Bruce then, running a hand over his physique admiringly, until it comes to a stop at the dip of his pubic bone and presses. "That's enough, now," he says, and Clark gives a strangled _no_ so Lex slaps the underside of one perfect cheek, the loud crack hard enough to leave a mark. Bruce grips the base of his cock and pulls out, even though he can feel the possibility of coming starting to gather in his balls. Lex strips the condom off him without any particular fanfare, still looking down, and Bruce takes his pointy chin in his fingers and tips his face up to be kissed.

Lex makes a startled noise, then kisses back with gusto, though his mouth is as sharp and precise as his intellect. He sucks Bruce's tongue before he breaks backwards, eyes hooded. "Yes, very good." Their bodies are pressed closer; he nudges his hips so his dick rubs alongside Bruce's, which feels so good that it warms all through his groin. He feels the preslick head skating into the crease of his groin, and grabs upwards, to be kissed again.

He practically forgets about Clark, who has stayed exactly where he's put, trembling and lost in sensation, his eyes closed, expression calm. His incredible senses mean he can hear the sticky kiss on intimate skin, the brush of crinkled hair over Lex's torso, the wet noise of their mouths. More than that, he can hear their thundering heartbeats, the quiet sips of breath Lex takes, the sound of his nails raking over Bruce's shoulder, the low grunt of the other man. It paints a visual picture of the two of them together that makes him feel almost itchy inside, arousal, of course, and the desire to make Lex happy that always swamps him when he sinks down into this state, but it's ribboned with something needier. Clark is confident enough in himself that he isn't really jealous, and he feels secure in his and Lex's relationship after their long, strange journey into intimacy, but he still wants their attention, wants hands and mouths on him, wants to join in.

Lex seems to sense his discontent, because he breaks away to move up the bed, skimming a hand up the cat arch of Clark's spine. "Color?"

Clark thinks about it a moment, but: "Green," he decides, turning his face to nuzzle into Lex's touch. A strange sort of smile twists at Lex's mouth, and his heavy eyes go soft in a way that never happens outside of the bedroom. He dips, kisses the top of Clark's head, burying his nose in those soft curls. His sweet, inhuman pet. Lex is obsessed with him.

He taps Clark's cheek twice with open fingers, not even hard enough to be a slap for someone who wasn't the man of steel, murmurs "Good boy," and looks back at Bruce. "Why don't you come up here and find out if Clark's mouth is as delectable as the other end, hm?"

Which is how Clark ends up sucking the cock that was inside him only moments ago, eyes closing again as his mouth and tongue work around the thick length. "Pull his hair," Lex suggests. "Choke him on it, he loves that." 

At first Bruce isn't sure that's true: when he forces himself down the tight ring of Clark's throat the man splutters, chokes helplessly, face flushing in ruddy splotches and his eyes going wet. But when he pulls back in consternation, Clark whines, leans forward to chase his cock. "Don't stop," he says breathlessly, looking up at Bruce. "I can take it." He seems a little embarrassed to be so forward about it, but it pays off when he's dragged back into place so the cock can plunge down his throat again, his pretty mouth stretched wide.

It really doesn't take long at all before Bruce slows his rapid pace, a long string of saliva spilling out of Clark's mouth as he pulls out. "I'm close," he murmurs, rubbing his slick cock over Clark's cheek.

Clark's head drops, panting for breath, and Lex, who hasn't moved, tousels his hair. "Not yet," he instructs, and he has to really reach to get to Bruce's mouth but does anyway, the kiss biting and precise. "Not until I'm done with you."

But he lets Bruce have a break from stimulation, settling back on the pillows as Lex takes his turn in Clark's mouth instead, feeding him his cock in slow inches, murmuring praise as Clark suckles happily. "I'm, mm, going to let him make me come," he informs Clark, who makes a soft hiccoughing noise but doesn't actually protest. "I expect you to clean everything up afterwards."

In the meantime, though, Clark has to watch. Lex directs him to lie alongside Bruce, and Clark stretches out gratefully, curling into one shoulder and watching Lex with lidded eyes. "Get it ready for me, Clark," Lex says softly, and Clark does, lifting Bruce's cock from where it is arched against his stomach, rolling on a fresh condom, and holding it for Lex to sink himself down onto with a satisfied _ah_.

Clark knows from experience that Lex rides dick expertly, thighs honed on the Lexcorp climbing wall lifting and dropping him in rapid swivels, working hard to get everything exactly as he likes it. He's as selfish with Bruce's cock as he would be with a dildo. But Clark is there to pick up the slack, hand roaming over the old scars on Bruce's body, tweaking his nipples, mouthing hungrily at his neck. Whispering in Bruce's ear to watch, see how beautiful he is when he's lost in ecstasy, face turned up to heaven.

Lex drops forward when he's close, long hair all over the place as he digs one skinny elbow into Bruce's chest and uses his hand on himself, long pulls that turn rapid. He never closes his eyes, watching both men with huge pupiled avidity, commanding their attention in turn. And when it cracks he doesn't hold off, doesn't try and stall himself, just shoots hot up the length of Bruce's torso, pressed down so he's sunk deep enough to feel every clench and spasm of it.

"Jesus Christ," Bruce says, around something almost like a laugh. Of course Luthor came first, like this was some kind of dominance display. And he doesn't even collapse, picks himself up off Bruce's cock after a few moments to catch his breath, climbs off him entirely.

"That was excellent, gentlemen, thank you," he says curtly as though he's complimenting a performance or presentation, his hair all over his face hiding his expression, though his eyes are manic. He strokes Clark's cheek briefly, then leaves for the ensuite, the sound of the shower obvious through the wall a moment later.

"Don't mind him," Clark murmurs, presses a sweet kiss to Bruce's jaw that is the exact opposite of whatever just happened. "He's happy, I promise." The kissing continues downwards, his deep blue gaze flicking up as he reaches the highest splash of Lex's watery come and licks it up, just like he was instructed. 

"He has a strange way of showing it," Bruce grouses, but he doesn't stop Clark from mouthing downwards, cleaning Bruce's torso. He licks Bruce's cock playfully, then wrinkles his nose at the taste and sensation of latex. Peels it off with a sweep of his hand that has Bruce arching. He feels all tight at the base of his cock, like he's been putting off coming for too long, but Clark doesn't suck him immediately, just tongues slowly around the head, flickering across the slit, chasing the taste. Bruce makes a throaty noise, bunches a hand in his curls, and forces him to apply his mouth properly, which seems to be what Clark was aiming for because he sets to with a vengeance, wicked suction and sloppy noises yanking the orgasm out of Bruce.

He feels as though he comes buckets, but when the white noise fades Clark has swallowed it all, is just tonguing his balls and shaft idly, avoiding the sensitive head. Bruce grips his own dick and fists upwards, working out the last drop of pearly come onto Clark's waiting tongue. He grunts, drops into a sweaty sprawl.

"If you'd like to come up here," he gestures to around his torso, "I could return the favor," Bruce offers, and Clark gives a bashful little smile. 

"Fun as that sounds," he says, "I think it would be a little too much for me." At Bruce's quizzical look, he clarifies: "I can't, uh, I'm not allowed to finish without permission." Looks away, lashes low. Bruce and Lex's intermingled come is still sheeny on his mouth and the man is blushing. 

"Another time," Bruce suggests, with the confidence of it being an inevitability. Clark doesn't seem too surprised, but he does crawl back up Bruce's body and kiss him firmly, still somewhat abashed. Though some of that flush could simply be arousal; he's sweaty and breathless with it, cock so hard it makes Bruce's twitch in sympathy. He has to have an incredible amount of willpower not to take care of it when he's been so thoroughly used, when Lex isn't even in the room. Speaking of. "Maybe you should go check on him," he suggests, tipping a head towards the bathroom door. Hard to say if he's actually concerned for Luthor, but Clark at least deserves the chance to be rewarded for setting all this up. "I'm going to finish my drink."

Clark lifts an eyebrow like he knows exactly what Bruce is going to do, but he clambers out of bed anyway, collecting Lex's discarded clothes and his own, taking them to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It's not like he needs it open to watch Bruce dress and leave.

"Is he going?" Lex inquires idly from where he's sitting cross-legged in the gigantic tub below the rainfall shower, letting it patter down on him and then drizzle down the drain. Clark takes a seat on the edge of the tub, picks up the conditioner. 

"He'll be back," he says, with the certainty of a man who can't himself stay away, moth to the flame.

**Author's Note:**

> "Tangles!" Lex's shriek echoes off the bathroom tiles; Clark tugs a damp-dark lock again and grins.
> 
>  
> 
> ([tumblr](http://wellick.com).)


End file.
